


Two Baseball Players and a Baby

by MagicInHerMadness



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: And mama!Ginny is everything, F/M, Fluff, any form of dad!Mike makes my ovaries hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicInHerMadness/pseuds/MagicInHerMadness
Summary: A tryst catches up to Mike in the form of a baby girl. Who else would he turn to but Ginny?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I was washing dishes a little while ago, and suddenly I had this idea for a single dad!Mike AU. I have no more explanation than that.

Ginny’s not surprised to find Mike on the other side of the door, but his rumpled appearance makes her eyes widen. He hasn’t slicked his hair back, and he’s not wearing his leather jacket. Something is terribly wrong. She immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

He pulls out his phone, shows her a picture of a sleeping baby, a girl she guesses from the little yellow hat covering its head. “Her mother’s dead. She, uh, hemorrhaged after her, uh, C-section. Nothing they could do. How… What am I supposed to tell her when she gets old enough to ask why she doesn’t have a mother?”

Ginny puts the pieces together quickly as she steps back to let him in. Even his swaggering gait is missing as he heads for the couch, falls on it, and covers his face. Ginny sits beside him, takes the phone to look at the baby again. If nothing else, the baby’s got his large pointed ears, and there’s a wisp of a dark curl hanging out of the hat. Her olive skin still has that newborn pink to it. “How do you know she’s yours?”

“She’s mine. I remember when her mom, uh, said she wasn’t gonna keep her. We had this wild weekend while she was in town on business. I wanted her to keep it even though I didn’t know her that well, but, uh, it wasn’t my choice. And I was still trying to make it work with Rachel every time I got the chance to beg her to come home. So I told her okay, gave her the money. She must’ve changed her mind and figured I wouldn’t…” He scrubs a hand over her face. “She’s so little. How am I gonna tell her that her mom’s…”

Ginny takes his hand away from where it’s worrying his beard, rubs his calloused palm with the pad of her thumb. “You tell her that people die, that it’s sad but we keep them alive through memories.”

“How do I raise a little girl by myself, Baker? I don’t know anything about kids—and definitely not little girls. How is a fuck up like me supposed to be somebody’s dad?”

“The same way other fuck ups do it every day, Mike,” Ginny replies.

He turns to look at her, eyes a bleary soft blue. “Will you come with me? I’ve gotta go to, to San Francisco to get her and I need…”

“Of course.” She throws on a hoodie and leggings, pulls on a pair of black trainers not unlike the ones on Mike’s feet.

X

He fidgets the whole flight until Ginny distracts him by rattling off a list of things he’ll need to bring a baby home, inadvertently sending him into another tailspin until she commandeers his phone and makes the purchases herself on Amazon. She finally stops him with a question, “What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, stopping his pacing in the aisle that thankfully the other red eye passengers are sleeping through. “I mean, she, uh, doesn’t have one. Dannie didn’t get to…before she…”

Ginny nods, closes the Amazon app and goes back to the picture of the sleeping baby. “What about Charlotte?”

“Charlotte’s pretty,” he replies, finally seeming to settle and focus.

Ginny scrunches her nose. “Really? It’s my middle name and I’ve always hated it. Or maybe it’s the way my mom says it.”

He chuckles. “You wanna name my daughter after yourself but I’m the narcissist?”

Ginny laughs. “Well, I was hoping you’d say no because it’s a hideous name, but you’ve gone and ruined it.”

“When Rachel and I were together, I always imagined we’d name our little girl Ruth.”

Ginny frowns at him. “You are gonna get that child beaten to death on the playground.”

“Come on! It’s cute. Little Ruthie Lawson? That’s adorable.”

Ginny raises her eyebrows at him. “It’s really not.”

“We’ll just wait and see what she thinks.”

“She can’t lift her head. I doubt she can give you an opinion, old man.”

Mike laughs as he takes his phone to look at the picture, runs his thumb over her little face. “I can’t believe I’ve got one of these. A kid. My own kid.”

Ginny smiles at his mystified face.

X

The mystified look intensifies in the San Francisco hospital room as Mike holds the tiny baby, wrapped in a yellow blanket that matches her hat. Ginny watches from the doorway as he cradles her in the crook of his arm, holding her little bottle in her mouth.

Mike’s a gruff guy. She can’t think of anyone more prickly or requiring more adjustment for company. Nothing of his curmudgeonly attitude or perpetual frown should be suited for this moment, and yet there he is, smiling softly, comically large in comparison to the little bundle in his arms. His voice is almost laughably gentle, nothing like his typical boisterous clubhouse tone. “I’m your daddy. And you’re my daughter. I know, right? Craziest shit I’ve ever heard anyway.”

The baby whimpers and he rocks her gently, sings, “ _Oh the night/ Here it comes again/ It’s on with the jeans, the jacket, and the shirt/ How’d I end up feeling so bad/ For such a little girl_ …”

Ginny snickers and quickly covers her mouth. Mike turns around and smirks. “What? I don’t know any lullabies. And Ruthie likes it.”

Ginny snorts. “Don’t call her that.”

He beckons her into the room and Ginny comes close, peers at the little girl shrouded in the blanket. “Do you wanna hold her?”

Ginny offers Mike a large giftbag that he takes in one hand. He sets it down and Ginny offers her arm, lets Mike settle the baby in them.

She cradles her head, remembering that’s most important as she stares at the child. She yawns, her tiny nose scrunching, then her wide eyes open. Ginny loses all reservations about the baby’s paternity. Eyes the color of the ocean, swirled with green and flecked with gold, and framed with thick dark lashes. She’s indeed a Lawson, a fact that is reiterated by the little frown that settles on her face as she squirms her hands loose from the swaddling blanket. Ginny looks away from her when Mike chuckles. “What?”

“Baker, have you held a baby before?”

“Yes,” she replies immediately then admits, “Okay so no.”

Mike shifts her arms, shrouds the baby in them. “You can’t just let her bottom half dangle like that.”

Ginny nods, coos, “I’m sorry, Ruthie.”

“See? It’s cute, right?”

The pitcher pulls a face at him then nods to the bag. “Look what I got you.”

He takes the bag and pulls out the basket inside. He looks over the tiny yellow and white clothes in it. Ginny explains, “It’s called the Burt’s Bees Take Me Home basket. Put me out sixty bucks even though you won’t name your kid after me.”

Mike laughs. “If you hate being called Charlotte, why would you wish it on someone else?”

“Because suffering is generational. My grandmother was cursed with the name so my mother cursed me. Now I’m cursing someone else.”

Mike nods. “I guess it wouldn’t be a bad middle name.”

“Ruth Charlotte?” Ginny shakes her head. “Rolls off the tongue weird.”

“Charlotte Ruth isn’t that much better.”

“You don’t call her _Charlotte_. Just like you wouldn’t call her _Ruth_. You’d call her Lottie or Lolly or Charlie.”

He nods, acquiesces, “We’ll see.”

She quietly asks, “Where’s her family?”

“I’m it. The nurses said Dannie gave them my name right before…” he replies. “I’m all she’s got, Gin. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to…?”

“Do the best you can. That’s all there is to it.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

“It will be. It has to be.” Ginny shrugs. “Look, neither of us had the best childhood, but at the very least you know what not to do.”

Mike nods, moves to take the baby back until she begins crying. He quickly lets her go and Ginny bounces her, sings, “ _You’re the apple of my eye/ You’re cherry pie/ And oh you’re cake and ice cream/ Oh you’re sugar and spice/ And everything nice/ You’re the girl of my my my dreams_ …”

“Maybe you should learn some lullabies, rookie,” Mike teases with a smile.

Ginny shrugs, scrunches her nose at him. “Sam Cooke is better than some sappy Ryan Adams song.”

“You’re old enough to remember Sam Cooke?”

“My dad used to sing me that song all the time when I was little. He would pick me up even after I was way too big and twirl me around on the porch. It was the best thing ever.”

“I think we’ll give it a few months before I twirl her,” he replies, trying to picture a Ginny Baker young enough to twirl, and then a Ruthie old enough. He wonders if her hair will be thick and straight like his or her mother’s springy curls. He also wonders if her skin will stay it's creamy hue or darken to a golden brown like Dannie, if she'll grow into a reincarnation of a woman he'd owed better.

“So you’re really gonna do this? The dad thing?”

He shrugs but his expression is determined as he takes the baby back, holding her up to look at her. “I don’t have a choice, Baker. Well, I guess I do. But I’m all she’s got, and that means something.”

“I’ll be here to help. Lord knows you’ll need it,” Ginny replies with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little story has worked its way into my heart tbh

Ginny hears the crying before she opens the door of Mike’s guestroom. He’s holding a squalling Ruthie, her little face red as she squirms in his arms. “Your turn.”

Ginny takes the baby and he follows her inside. “For one thing, she’s got on too many clothes.”

“It’s November,” he replies.

“In San Diego. And we’re inside if you didn’t know that,” Ginny reminds him as she takes off the baby’s blanket, then Ruthie’s hat. The baby settles almost immediately. “She was too hot, old man. She can’t sleep in all those clothes and under a blanket too.”

“I didn’t want her to get cold.”

“So you decided to give her a heatstroke instead?” Ginny peels off the baby’s tiny Padres sweatshirt then removes her pants, each layer bringing her cries down a decibel. Ginny slicks her damp, dark curls back, cooing at the baby’s face. “All better? Yeah that’s better.”

“Bedtime is your job,” he mutters as he sits on her bed.

“As it should be if this is what you do.” She sits on the bed beside him, her back against the headboard. Mike watches as the infant relaxes instantly, rubbing her face against Ginny, gurgling softly. She explains, “They love skin to skin contact.”

“How do you know that?”

She points to the nightstand. “I bought a book yesterday.”

Mike reaches over, picks up the book. “Babies for Dummies.”

“Undoubtedly written with you in mind,” she teases then looks down at the baby with a frown. “She’s got the rumblies.”

“What?”

“Her stomach. It’s rumbling.”

“She just ate.”

“It’s not growling. It’s rumbling. She’s got gas.” Ginny sits up and sits Ruthie up with her, placing her hand on the baby’s stomach and massaging it. She laughs, announces, “She’s farting!”

“Yeah she’s been a little bomb lately after she eats,” he replies, still flipping through the book.

“Maybe she’s lactose intolerant.”

“You think?”

“If her milk makes her this gassy, she might be.”

“So what do I feed her?”

“Soy formula. I had to have it when I was a baby.”

He nods, makes a note on his phone then smiles at Ruthie stuffing Ginny’s hair in her mouth. He takes a picture. “Oh that’s going on Instagram.”

He quickly uploads it with the caption “Ruthie eats rookies like @GinnyBaker43 for dinner”.  Ginny laughs as she likes it on her own phone. “What doesn’t go on Instagram, old man?”

Fatherhood quickly fills Mike’s Instagram with pictures of Ruthie doing everything from sleeping to laughing to laying on Ginny’s face as they both sleep on the nursery floor after a long night. Ginny’s not sure what to make of the softness that overcomes Mike, the way the baby pulls his marshmallow filling to the outside.

“You’re good at this,” he remarks as she smooths Ruthie’s shirt springy curls. He’s noticed a change in Ginny as well, a softening of her exterior when she’s with him and Ruthie.

“Kids have always loved me.” She shrugs, rubbing her nose against Ruthie’s. “But you’re my favorite, Peanut.”

The chubby baby gurgles, her little fists clutching Ginny’s hair. She sets off to change the baby, not surprised to find Mike sprawled on the bed, snoring, the book sprawled on his chest when she returns. Ginny laughs as she dresses Ruthie in a clean onesie then sits beside him. It was her day to go to the gym so he’d been on baby duty since that morning. Mike snorts awake, yawns, “I should probably get out of your hair.”

Ginny takes the book off his chest. “Just go to sleep, old man.”

X

One Week Later

Blip’s eyebrows quirk at the sight of Mike walking on the treadmill, a baby sling attached to his front. He can see a curly head peeking out of the top, and Mike’s smiling as he carries on a spirited albeit one-sided conversation.

He goes over to the rowing machine, subtly recording a video to send to Evelyn. He almost puts his phone away when Ginny walks over, but he keeps recording when Mike pauses the treadmill and hands the sling over. Ginny outfits herself with it then climbs on the bike beside him. With the season over and no playoff spot, most everyone’s gone home or occupying their off-season time in other ways, but Blip’s come to expect Mike or Ginny there a few times a week. He learned that they were tag-teaming keeping Ruthie while the other worked out, but offered no comment. Now it seems the baby is old enough to tag along for what he’ll call “family fitness” when he makes fun of them later.

He sends the video with the caption and a moment later Evelyn FaceTimes him. “Get closer so we can hear what they’re talking about.”

“Ev…” In retrospect, he should have known better, giving his secret-hungry wife the indication that Mike and Ginny are doing something she doesn’t know about. She’s been curious about their co-parenting since it started six months earlier, and enamored with the baby girl, but the boys’ lacrosse commitment has kept her from being as intrusive as she’d like.

“Just do this for me, Blip.”

Blip rolls his eyes but moves to Mike’s treadmill after he leaves it behind in favor of a bike beside Ginny. He sets his phone up so Evelyn can see them.

Ginny’s pedaling with only half her usual intensity, instead focused on the little person attached to her chest. “We’re gonna have some strained peaches for lunch. Does that sound good?”

“No,” Mike replies, his nose scrunched as he laughs. “And whatever you fed her for breakfast turned her shit green.”

“She had a little avocado while I was eating,” Ginny explains, running her fingers through Ruthie’s riotous curls. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Bababababa,” Ruthie babbles, holding onto Ginny’s tank top.

“What do you wanna do tonight?” Mike asks.

“I’d love to have a nice shower and get eight hours of sleep, but since we’re being realistic, we should put the swing together. Probably the crib too cause she’s gonna turn the bassinet over one of these days,” she answers.

Ginny’s been more or less living with Mike since he’d brought Ruthie home, both of them woefully underqualified for parenting but reasoning that two heads are better than one. He nods then says, “Did I tell you she finally rolled over?”

“She did?” Ginny immediately gets off the bike and lays Ruthie on her back on the floor. The baby quickly rolls over and Ginny cheers like she’s struck out Babe Ruth.

Blip smirks at his front camera, quirking his eyebrows at his wife as he shows her Mike’s smile, which is more focused on Ginny than the baby. Evelyn grins, bouncing a little. “I told you it would be the baby that did it.”

Since Ginny called her with the news, Evelyn’s been insisting that her friend’s commitment was a little too much beyond normal friendship. Blip’s listened because he doesn’t have a choice but he’s not sure he believed her until he witnessed it himself on a few occasions: Mike bringing the baby along on Butch’s first sail in his pontoon and Ginny slathering her with sunscreen and outfitting her with a floppy sunhat; Ginny toting her in the park with Evelyn on weekends; Mike and Ginny passing her back and forth at Sonny’s birthday barbecue so the other could get in on a game of football. For whatever reason, their makeshift family works.

He watches as they resume their cycling. Evelyn urges, “Invite them over for dinner. I’ve gotta see this in person.”

It’s a sickness, but he indulges because there’s nothing cute than Evelyn on a fishing expedition. He turns to Mike and Ginny. “Ev wants you two—three—to come over for dinner tonight.”

“I don’t think we have anything to wear without spit up on it but we’ll be there,” Mike replies.

“I did the laundry last night,” Ginny interjects then points her chin at Ruthie. “Sitting on the washer put her to sleep.”

“Well I’m putting that on the list,” he replies then tells Blip, “We would be delighted.”

x

“My mom wants me to come home for Thanksgiving,” Ginny says with no particular inflection as she dresses Ruthie in a blue romper sprinkled with pineapples that matches her loose shift dress.

“Are you going?” he asks as he buttons his shirt.

Ginny shrugs then looks at him. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll go.”

“You want me to come home with you? Again?” He grins. “Baker, people are gonna start talking.”

Ginny snorts. “I know, and you can thank me with flowers.”

“What do you think your mom’s gonna say?” He knows Ginny and Janet’s contentious relationship hasn’t improved much since the last time they were together, that Ginny spends her free weekends with him because she can’t take her mother for more than a day.

She shrugs again. “Doesn’t matter. You and Ruthie are my family now.”

There’s something about the way she says “family” that makes Mike’s stomach flip, but he says nothing about it, instead telling her, “I guess we can clear our schedules to help you out.”

“Thanks so much,” she replies with a smirk.

They leave, headed for Blip and Evelyn’s. Evelyn opens the door before they ring the doorbell, grinning at them. “Hi!”

“Hey Ev,” they reply then follow her inside the house.

“Where are the boys?” Ginny asks, frowning at the strangely silent house.

“Sleepover,” Evelyn replies as she looks them over. “Well don’t y’all look coordinated?”

Ginny looks at Mike, noticing for the first time that his shirt and her dress are the same shade of blue. She looks back at Evelyn and shrugs. “I didn’t dress him.”

“She’d rather undress me,” Mike jokes.

Ginny snorts. “You’ve gotta quit drinking, old man.”

“Wawawawa,” Ruthie interjects, pulling on Ginny’s collar.

Ginny smiles at her, scrunches her nose. “Okay we’re gonna eat in a minute, Peanut.”

“Aunty Ev made you some mashed potatoes,” Evelyn coos as she reaches for the baby who recoils with a whine, clinging to Ginny.

Mike snorts a laugh. “You’re barking up the wrong tree trying to take her from Baker. She won’t even come to me when she’s with her.”

Evelyn shakes her head, smooths the baby’s curls. “She’s just crazy about her mama.”

Two pairs of eyes snap to Evelyn and she quickly realizes her mistake but retreats to the kitchen at the sound of a timer dinging. Ginny slowly turns her gaze to Mike who’s already looking at her. Ginny opens her mouth to speak, but Evelyn interrupts, announcing dinner.

Mike reaches for Ruthie, surprised when she comes to him, her little hand immediately going to his beard. “Bababababa.”

“No, Peanut,” he replies. “Say _da-da_. _Da-da_.”

Ginny smiles, shaking her head as she goes into the dining room. She grins at the sight of fried chicken. “Ooh food that isn’t soft!”

They sit down to eat, Ruthie balanced on Mike’s knee as Ginny feeds her mashed potatoes that make her smack her tiny plump lips together happily.

“So can we expect you two for Thanksgiving?”

“Not this year. We’re, uh, going to Tarboro,” Mike answers as he wipes Ruthie’s mouth. Ginny retrieves a bottle with water in it from her navy and white striped diaper bag and hands it to him.

“You? As in both of you?” Evelyn asks. “Well, the three of you?”

“Yeah. Baker’s gotten used to all Mike all the time and she can’t get enough,” Mike replies.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Oh like you had such promising plans, old man.”

“I was gonna take Peanut to the parade if you must know.”

“There’s a parade in Tarboro, not that it’s gonna mean anything to her,” Ginny replies, smiling at Ruthie’s grabby hands before she takes her to burp her. “You’re wet, Peanut.”

“It’s your turn.”

“It isn’t, but I’ll change her.” Ginny picks her up and grabs her bag then takes her to the living room to lay her out on her changing pad. Ruthie fusses as Ginny unsnaps her onesie. “ _Don’t go changing/ to try and please me/ You never let me down before/ Don’t imagine you’re too familiar/ And I don’t see you anymore_ …”

Mike enters to collect her dirty diaper in a plastic baggie and squats beside the couch to grin at Ruthie as he joins in. “ _I would not leave you/ in times of trouble/ We could have never come this far/ I took the good times/ I’ll take the bad times_ …”

“ _I’ll take you just the way you are_ ,” Ginny chimes in, tweaking Ruthie’s button nose as she fastens her new diaper.

Evelyn watches them from the doorway, beckoning Blip over to watch too. She whispers, “See!”

x

Ginny lays a snoring Ruthie in her newly assembled crib, tucking her Padres blanket around her then leaning over to press a kiss on her forehead. She picks up a few toys scattered on the floor then puts them in Ruthie’s wooden chest, not noticing Mike’s presence until he’s right in front of her, holding Ruthie’s prized stuffed elephant. She grins. “You found Harry Elephanté!”

“He was in the playpen,” Mike replies as he goes over to put the elephant in the crib beside Ruthie. He knows it isn’t biologically possible, but the baby bears a resemblance to Ginny with her snub nose and dimples. He turns to Ginny, quietly offers, “You _are_ her mom. You know that, don’t you?”

Ginny shakes her head. “I’m not—”

“Well, Dannie gave birth to her and that’ll never change, but you’re the one who’s nurturing her, who’s helping me raise her. You’re her mom. Like you said, we’re family.” Ginny stares at him, her mouth slightly open. Mike steps closer, wraps his arms around her, waiting until her arms wrap around him to pull her close for a hug. “Thank you. I’ve never told you that, but I couldn’t do this without you.”

Ginny pulls back, smiles at him as she pinches his cheeks. “You’re such a softie now, old man.”

Mike squeezes her sides, makes her jump. “See this is why I don’t tell you stuff.”

They go to their separate rooms and get ready for bed, hoping to get a few hours of sleep before Ruthie wakes up again. Ginny pulls on a long-sleeved shirt then puts her hair up before she climbs into bed. She turns off the lights then gets comfortable, closing her eyes before she opens them again. She rolls over onto her back then onto her side, neither position seeming particularly comfortable. She finally gets out of bed and leaves the room. A peek in Ruthie’s room reveals the baby still sleeping, one arm thrown up over her head like Mike. A peek in his room reveals the catcher still awake, flipping channels.

“What are you watching?” she asks.

“ _Snapped_ ,” he answers.

“Murder at midnight? I’m in.” She climbs into his bed and switches off the bedside lamp then looks at him in the semi-darkness. “You don’t mind the company do you?”

Mike smiles. “It’s a little late to ask but no.”

It doesn’t take Ginny long to grow sleepy and Mike is surprised by her cuddling up to him, but he doesn’t comment, instead letting her throw her arm over his midsection and settle her leg between his as she nods off. He looks down at her when she begins to snore softly and pulls his blanket up onto her shoulders, yawning as he grows sleepy himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a total slut for comments

**Author's Note:**

> You all know how I am by now lol


End file.
